


Lessons in Calignious Relationships: A Dave Strider Experience

by Terminality



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Ficlet, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminality/pseuds/Terminality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gamzee takes it up a notch in his attempts to court Dave into being his kismesis, Dave decides he can't just ignore it any more. Cue lengthy Karkat Vantas rants and awkward teenage boy fumblings.</p><p>Slightly aged up AU where everyone is one big, dysfunctional family on the meteor while they wait out their three years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Calignious Relationships: A Dave Strider Experience

**Author's Note:**

> A request from an anonymous user in my reverse-prompt thread in the Homestuck kink meme. This scenario is threatening to become it's own universe...
> 
> I'm sticking this with an explicit rating because even though it's not outright sex it's still pretty close.

"Thanks, Aradia," you say, and she gives you a wide smile and puts a hand on your back.

"No problem, Dave! We'll definitely have to go over more stuff later," she says, and you nod at her when she turns away from the door and back down the hallway. You press the button to open the door to the room you've claimed as your own and stretch out in relief of finally getting to be by yourself for a minute.

You've spent the better part of the afternoon with her, sharing tips and stories pertaining to time travel and control, and she's taught you a lot you didn't know about God Tier tricks. Such as learning how to freeze or speed up time in centralized areas, that sort of thing. You're not sure you can figure out how to do it to other people, like she says, but you tell her you figure you've been doing it to yourself all along without realizing it, what with the flashstepping and sweet swordplay and whatnot.

You unbutton your hood and toss it onto your bed, kicking off your shoes at the same time. Rose has taken the liberty of alchemizing furniture and computers and other sorts of useful things for everyone, since she decided it was worth making this place a little more homely while you were all stuck here, and your room almost looks like something familiar. If it weren't for the solid metal floor and walls, that is.

You head over to your desk and pull out the high-backed computer chair to have a seat and jot down a few notes about your lesson with Aradia.

Except there's something in your seat and--

"Oh jesus fuck what the hell are you doing here?" You're glad you're completely alone because you legitimately, totally not ironically almost shit your pants when you look down in your chair and fucking Lil' Cal is propped up in it, wearing some kind of weird fucking green suit instead of the normal clothes you've seen him in. Which doesn't really matter because it's still fucking _Lil' Cal_.

You thought you were done with this thing.

You are very, very not okay with the fact that you aren't.

You decide that instead of staying in your room you are going to go find Terezi right the fuck now and ask her if she knows anything about this. You abscond out of your room faster than you can blink.

\-----

The next few days see Lil' Cal making surprise appearances in various locations throughout the meteor, always in constant view of you, of course. Terezi doesn't know where he came from except that Kanaya put him back together again a very long time ago, and Kanaya doesn't know where he went after that, so it's basically a useless, deadend lead. It stops scaring the shit out of you after the first few times (well, for the most part) and now has just resulted in you being incredibly, insanely angry about the whole thing. Because whoever the fuck is doing this can just go die forever, for all you care.

"Strider, are you even listening to a single thing that I'm telling you, you moron," you snap back into focus and stare at Vantas through your shades. The two of you try to have regular sessions where you discuss this whole Knight thing, even though neither of you have very many ideas on the matter, and it's during one of these sessions that you find yourself now. Just fifteen minutes ago you found Lil' Cal in your shower. You are not fucking pleased.

"Well jeez I'm sorry Karkitty, sometimes I have better things to think about than your mindless drivel," you say, and he rolls his eys at you and leans back against the wall. His sickles are out in front of him, since normally these little sessions of yours end in a practice fight because it's the only thing you've both decided you're good at, but for now you were trying to have a conversation. It's not working, because all you can think about are lifeless, beady eyes staring at you out of the closet in your bedroom.

"All right, this needs to end. What the fuck is your problem lately, asshole," he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. You shrug.

"Who owns Lil' Cal and why the fuck does it keep showing up in my shit." It's not a very cool or tactical approach but, fuck, the whole thing has you just a little jumpy and paranoid. You always thought the thing was alive when you were a kid, for christ's sake, and Bro isn't here, so either it really is or someone who knows you way too fucking well is messing with your head. Neither of these things are appealing explanations, to be quite honest.

"Oh gog," he says, and he literally full on face-palms. "Gamzee, that whimsical piece of shit, I can't believe he's still trying to persue this even after I told him it was a terrible idea."

"The juggalo," you say, rolling your eyes behind your shades. Great, just great. Of course it would be him. The looks he's been giving you in the halls lately, something like a mix of intense, burning hatred (which is perfectly normal and returned in kind) and a general desire to rip you apart make a bit of sense now. He's clearly trying to get under your skin.  
Or something. Actually, you really aren't sure what he's doing. You've never been sure. The only thing you really know about him is that he irritates the hell out of you.

"What exactly is he trying to do, anyway," you ask, leaning back on the floor, your arms outstretched behind you.

"Ugh, I forgot you human morons don't understand the details of a calignious relationship, which _still_ amazes me, might I add," he says, straightening up a bit. God he is an insufferable asshole. "Gamzee is trying to start a calignious relationship with you, fuckass. For some reason that I can't quite understand, he wants you as a kismesis, species difference entirely aside."

"What exactly is that and why does Lil' Cal factor into it," you say, which was probably a mistake, because Karkat spends the next ten minutes of your time telling you that it's a hate relationship, a "black quadrant" or whatever and Gamzee is attempting to court you by trying to freak you the hell out and one-up you at every turn. Which would explain why he is using something he so obviously knows upsets you, having seen your timeline from start to finish, to try to get under your skin.

Which is fucking working, the smart bastard. You can't really explain why the idea of this whole hate relationship thing makes your stomach do some kind of weird, wiggly flop.

"So what do I do?" You ask, and he glares at you like you're absolutely retarded. Which you probably are for wanting to keep this going but to be honest it kind of intrigues you. Gamzee kind of intrigues you. While Karkat was talking you thought about it, good and hard, and it all sort of made sense, in some completely foreign and twisted way.

"What do you do? You do absolutely nothing and hope that I can talk the moron into dropping this futile obsession of his and we'd all be the happier without that heaping pile of horseshit in our lives. _However_ , in a proper calignious relationship, the response would be to attempt to start a feud of sorts. Since that's normally what gets a healthy black romance started," he says, and he gives you another little "don't even think about it" glare but you are far past the point of caring. This almost sounds fun, god forbid. You need someone new to fuck with now that Vantas is used to you.

"Right. Looks like I just have to fight back," you say and get to your feet. Karkat looks like he wants to say something, but you ignore him and walk out the door toward your room. Time to confront this asshole.

\----

You have no idea why it even exists but you are so thrilled when you realize the compound has internet access that you almost do a jig. Except Striders are too cool and laid back for that kind of shit, so instead you just smirk at your computer screen.

It's probably a low blow but you've decided the best course of action here is to go back to where this apparent blackcrush of his started: some good old ICP.

The song is playing for only about thirty seconds, the speakers turned up as high as you can get them, before there's a rather apparent and loud thud on the wall next to your room door. You think that was probably the button to the door being totally annihilated by a fist, but you'll think about that later, because the door is hissing open. You flashstep through it before you really even get a good look at him and grab a handful of whatever part of him is closest.

You have him pinned against the wall with your fists in his shirt and you have to hold in a shudder when you see Lil' Cal fall to the floor at his feet. Fucker was going to sit it outside of your door or something, goddamn him. At least you got to fight back this time.

He lets out a puff of breath when you pin him against the wall and knock the air out of him and you look up into his face. It's painted with his usual ugly clown makeup and you note that he's a good five inches taller than you, so you have to look up a little bit to see his eyes. They're narrowed in your direction, bright indigo in a sea of gold, and you give him a hard shove again for good measure.

You never really noticed how good he looked, but up close and with your hands in his shirt it's pretty obvious that he's far from unattractive. Well, that's a bonus.

"Let go, motherfucker," his voice is an up and down lull of words, but there's a sharp, underlying bite to it and you determine that it is also decidedly not unattractive.

"Stop following me around like a fucking creep and putting that doll in my shit," you say, giving him another good shove and getting closer to his face, snarling. You can hear the song still going in the background, which makes you smirk, because you just know it's got to be bugging the shit out of him.

You're not really sure where to go from here, though. You've got this far but this whole "kismesis" thing sounds weird and confusing and even if you wanted to have sloppy makeouts with him (which, yeah, you kinda do) you wouldn't know where to start.

Apparently you don't have to think about it too hard because all the sudden his arms are on your waist and almost throwing you back into your room. You stagger back a bit, he slaps the button on the inside wall to shut the door, and all the sudden he's on top of you, sharp, jagged points and awkward limbs all over the place. His tongue is trying to shove inside your mouth and you just kind of roll with it, parting your lips and clinging onto his shirt for dear life when he starts biting your tongue and mouth. They aren't terribly hard bites, and they don't hurt that bad, but you can taste a little blood and it sends a thrill down your spine.

Your brain registers that the song has ended and the room is suddenly quiet, but you don't think that's really that important any more because he's trying to back you onto the bed behind you. Oh hell no, Striders get pushed down by no one.

You reach up and tangle your fingers in his mess of hair and give it a good tug, trying to use the leverage to get him turned around. It works and your not sure if it's because you really did do something effective or if he's letting you, but either way, you don't mind. You hook a foot on the back of his knee and use your body weight to send him tumbling onto the bed. He pulls you down with him and you're lying half on him, half still standing, his body warm and willing beneath your chest.

Holy shit you have no idea what you're doing but fuck does this feel good.

He pulls back from your mouth and latches his teeth onto your neck now instead. You can feel where his fangs break skin and you hiss.

"Goddammit your teeth are fucking sharp," you say, but he gives a low, deep growl, something inhuman that vibrates in his ribcage, and you have to try to stifle a moan. You're a little surprised by how turned on this whole thing is making you. He pulls back and lays his head against the bed, holding onto your shoulders and looking at you through the glasses.

"Troll teeth are sharp, brother," he says, and he looks like he's searching for something in your face. You lean down to try to kiss him again but the hands on your shoulders stop you. "Hold on a second, motherfucker. You're chill with this," he says, and he pauses for a minute and you're pretty sure he doesn't know how to say what he wants to say. You roll your eyes at him, even though you know he can't see it.

"Look, dude. I'm not really sure what I'm doing and I'm even less sure what a calig-whatever relationship means. I'm trying to figure this out here so don't get cold feet on me or something," you say, and you smack him pretty hard on the chest because his hesitation is making you wonder what exactly it is you're doing here. "About as far as I've gotten is that this is something I'm really fucking enjoying and you are an asshole and a creepy fuck, so let's not question it too far past that and keep going before you kill my boner."

He grins at you, all sharp teeth and thin lips, and his mouth is back on you again in a heartbeat.

It's only a matter of a few seconds before he's flipped you onto your back and is working to strip you of your clothes, which isn't hard with the stupid, baggy god tier outfit. He doesn't spare your skin from his nails while he does it, either, dragging a claw up your side while he peels off your shirt. And then he sort of seems to forget that he's undressing you and gets hung up on your chest, using the same sharp nail to draw little cirlces around your belly button and nipples. You can see the reddish lines where the skin puckers, but he doesn't draw blood.

You actually do moan at that, and you grab his hand and pull it away because it's making it hard to concentrate and because it's starting to tickle.

"Dude, yeah, that's my chest. I know I'm bangin' hot and all but it's seriously not that fascinating, I promise," you say, and he looks down at your chest again, pretty clearly confused.

"What the hell is all this," he says, poking you square in your belly button and you yelp.

"Okay don't ever do that again with those claws. I dunno, don't you have a belly button?" He pulls off his own shirt to demonstrate that, oh, apparently he doesn't have a belly button after all, and you don't give him too much time to answer because you reach up and grab ahold of his horns and pull him down for another kiss. You slip your hands down them and grab another fistful of his hair, giving it a good tug when he bucks his hips down against yours and you both moan a little.

Everything after that becomes a blur of biting, clawing, and pulling. You're having some kind of insane, horny battle, you digging at his scalp with your blunt nails and his claws scratching at your back every time you push up against him with your hips. It almost becomes a game to see who can make who orgasm first, and you take this opportunity to explore the various spots of troll anatomy, rubbing lazy circles around the base of his horns and reaching a hand between your hips to press up against his crotch.

You win that game when he lets out a deep growl and bites into your chest, hard, and he grinds down into your hip bone and hand one last time before his body is wracked with little shudders as he orgasms. The feeling of him clinging to your sides while he comes almost sends you over the edge and you reach up and grab the back of his head with one hand, pulling him up for a kiss, and you reach into your pants with the other, freeing your dick and finishing yourself off in a few well-practiced strokes. You pant into his mouth while you ride out the waves of orgasm, holding his face close to yours and just hanging on for dear life. You don't think jerking yourself off has ever felt that good.

He rolls off you as soon as you're done and you pull your pants back up again, wiping your hand on your bedsheet. You adjust your crooked shades and look over at him as he gets to his feet, pulling on his shirt.

"Well. That was, er." Fuck. What do you say after that kind of thing? You are at a complete loss, and he gives you a lazy grin, your blood on his lips and his hair an even more tussled mess than before.

"Not bad, for a motherfucking human," he says, leaning over you and biting at your ear. "Try bein' a little rougher next time," he whispers, hot breath spilling onto your skin, and you shudder at the feel of it. He leans back up and starts walking toward the door before you think up a good response.

"God I fucking hate you," you say, rubbing at all the sore spots on your chest that you know are going to form bruises.

"Same to you, motherfucker," he says, and he's out the door and gone.

The next morning you wake up and Lil' Cal is sitting at the end of your bed. You kick it off as you get up and try to remember if there are any other terrible ICP songs (oh wait, that's all of them) that Gamzee might be interested in hearing today.


End file.
